A Share in Death

“How’d you manage to get her alone? Cup of tea?” Kincaid knew Gemma’s adroitness with the forgotten handbag, the helping out in the kitchen—and her ability to dig out the minutiae of people’s lives.

“Uh huh. Evie says Cassie told her that if she, I mean Evie, played her cards right, she just might do half as well. A bitch, Evie called her. Not exactly what I’d call strong on family loyalty.”

“Urn,” Kincaid said, “I can see where Cassie might merit that description. That it?”

“Just about, sir. I’ve written it up.”

“Well, keep at it, Gemma. You never now what you might turn up. What’s next?”

“The Sterrett Clinic, where Hannah Alcock works.”

“Call in when you can. I’ve got to go. There’s someone banging on the bloody door.”

 

Kincaid yanked the door open, annoyed before he saw who it was, resigned to a thoroughly unpleasant few minutes afterwards. Chief Inspector Nash stood there, a messenger not sent by the gods. His retribution, thought Kincaid, had arrived.

 

“Well, laddie. Quite the lay-about, aren’t we. Just got up?”

“Chief Inspector Nash. Do come in. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m sure it is, laddie.” Nash traded sarcasm for sarcasm, and sat deliberately down on one of the suite’s dining room chairs, uninvited. Kincaid grimaced, repelled by the sight of the few greasy strands of hair stretched across Nash’s shiny scalp.

“What can I do for you, Inspector?” Kincaid asked,

 

A shaeie in death 91

 

not wanting to give Nash the advantage of opening the conversation.

 

“Pretty fancy accommodation. Must be nice on a superintendent’s salary.” He minced the title.

“Chief Inspector,” Kincaid said slowly. “Come off it.” He propped himself against the arm of the sofa. “What’s up. You didn’t come here to compliment me on my taste.”

Nash considered him, the black eyes glinting with what might have been humor in someone else. “The lab report’s in. No evidence of fingerprints on plug, cord or heater. It seems,” Nash paused for effect, “that you were right. Coroner’s refused to give a verdict of suicide.” Nash settled himself more comfortably on the chair and appeared to change the subject.